8

At his first opportunity that night, Justin ran inside, showered, and raced back toward his truck.

“Where are you going in such a hurry? Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

He skidded to a halt two feet from freedom. The weight of his mother’s glare was nearly palpable, and he’d never been able to dodge it. No matter how sweet she seemed to everyone else in town, he knew she could see into his soul, and he couldn’t get away with anything under her eye.

“I have an errand to run.” He risked a glance over his shoulder before running his fingers through his still damp hair. It was mostly true. Actually, it was entirely true. He had something to do away from the house. By definition, an errand.

“Uh-huh.”

Why didn’t it sound like she believed him? And why did he suddenly feel guilty?

“What kind of trouble do you think I’m going to get myself into?”

She crossed her arms over her brightly colored floral apron, her head cocked at a knowing angle, but she didn’t say a word.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He stared at the white cabinets, wondering not for the first time just how his life would be different if he’d left, or at least moved out of his childhood home. But it hadn’t really been an option. Not after his dad’s death. Not when Brooke and Doug had needed a stable fixture in their lives. Not with his mom trying so hard to be strong every day.

She had managed her grief and somehow pulled herself together. And if he’d asked her to, she would have found a way to care for her younger kids and fully run the dairy. Except he couldn’t ask her to do that. He couldn’t add to the weight of the grief she carried after the love of her life had been taken so suddenly. An aneurysm, the doctor had said. His father hadn’t suffered.

But Justin would have counted himself half a man if he’d left his mom to suffer in his stead.

Besides, Brooke had just left for the University of PEI a few years ago. Doug, too, had needed to spread his wings with the knowledge that he could come back to the dairy if his pilot plans fell through.

Which left Justin to be scolded by his mother like a misbehaving fifteen-year-old for running out before dinner.

Adopting her stance, he folded his arms and met her gaze with as much steel as she displayed. “I’m thirty-two years old. And I’m going to pick something up.”

“Uh-huh.” Her flippant little singsong suggested she knew exactly what he was doing and where he was going.

“What?”

“Nothing at all.” She walked across the spacious kitchen and scooped her mitts from the counter before opening the oven, which released a cloud of heavenly scents. The chicken and veggies of her potpie had mingled with the bready crust, all to make his mouth water. And she’d opened the oven just to remind him what he’d be missing if he left.

His stomach rumbled on cue, but he pressed a hand to it and shook off his hunger. Some things were more important than chicken potpie. Not many. But he could think of at least one.

Natalie had been adamant that she’d said good-bye. And he could think of only one place where she might have left her farewell.

“You didn’t used to sneak out.”

That made him laugh. “I’m not sneaking out. I’m a grown man, and I have an errand. I’ll be back later.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Should I set a place for you at the table?”

“I’ll probably pick up something at—” The thought snapped into place and rolled off his tongue faster than he could think about why it was there. “Why don’t you invite Harrison over?”

Her other eyebrow followed her first, then she gave him a hard frown. “Why would I do that?”

“No reason exactly.” He thumped the wall as he walked into the mudroom, calling behind him, “You’ve just been spending a lot of time with him lately.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been acting strange since Natalie came back.”

He laughed. If that was the worst she could throw at him, he wasn’t doing too bad. Besides, could she blame him? Natalie’s arrival had thrown him for a loop. Moving her wedding reception to his barn had come out of left field too. Finding out her fiancé was an incredibly successful music producer had been the icing on a cake he had no desire to eat. But he’d managed to keep the dairy producing milk, his cows relatively happy, and his employees no more disgruntled than usual.

He cast a glance in the direction of the pasture as he reached his truck. Dillon Holt’s pickup was still parked on the far side of the milking barn. Justin couldn’t remember the last time Dillon had stayed late on his own. His mom said they were attached at the hip—he and Dillon. Maybe it was true. But where he was going tonight, Dillon couldn’t join him. Some things had to be done solo.

Hoisting himself behind the wheel of his oversize four-wheel drive, Justin took a deep breath. The evening air had already begun to turn crisp, carrying the salt and sea past the shoreline. Perhaps it was because he’d grown up on this farm, but he didn’t smell the cows anymore. Their aroma had become part of his every breath, and he was more likely to miss the odor when he was away than notice it when he was here.

It was the scent of his father’s legacy. And his grandfather’s before that.

He didn’t have to go more than two minutes before he reached the turnoff for the lighthouse on Kane land. There was another lighthouse on the other side of North Rustico, past the inn, at the end of the boardwalk. That was the one the tourists visited. White with red trim, it included a small cabin built onto the back. From the water, it looked just as a lighthouse should.

But he’d always been partial to the little blue-and-white building on his family land. Right at the notch in a small inlet, the light at the top of the second story could reach clear to the red cliffs across the water on a cloudless day. And when the fog rolled in and the sky hung low, it pierced through them, a call to safety for the fishermen in the open waters.

Natalie had loved this lighthouse too. In fact, it was where they’d first met.

He pulled up to the old house, stopping in front of a stump that had never been removed. Whenever the big green pine trees had grown too thick and threatened to block the path of the light, his grandfather had come out and chopped them down. But the stumps remained. Just like the memories. An impotent reminder of the past.

Still, he pulled himself from the cab of his truck and walked over to the door. It was locked now. But it hadn’t been almost thirty years ago. Inserting the key from his ring, he twisted the knob and pushed the door in. It squeaked like a lifetime had passed since anyone had opened it, although he knew his staff at the dairy took turns checking the light at regular intervals.

The first floor was so dark he couldn’t see where to place his feet, so he took hesitant steps, afraid that someone had altered the room in his absence. But it hadn’t changed. It still carried the strong smell of earth and rain and the wind that whipped off the sea in a storm. A small desk in the corner was a testament to a time when a man filled out a log and tracked all the events of this corner of the island. Now it sat empty.

Justin reached for the stair railing and angled his foot to find the first step. It wasn’t much more than a ladder with its narrow rungs and steep grade, but it was so familiar he could almost hear the echoes of hours of laughter.

At the top of the flight, he pushed open a small hatch and light flooded over him. Blinking against the brilliance, he pulled himself into the small room. Its ten sides were all made of glass, and he stared toward the ocean and away from the light on the console in the center. The sun had only just begun its evening descent, but somehow the light within was brighter than anything in the sky. The sweeping metal arm that rotated a partial cover around the bulb was his only reprieve.

Like he had so many times before, he closed the hatch and sank to the ground.

And looked into the far corner, half expecting to see Natalie.

The first time he’d seen her there, it had been their second day of kindergarten. Of course, he’d seen her in Sunday school and around the area. How could kids avoid at least a passing acquaintance in such a small town?

But that morning had been different. He’d forgotten that he’d left his favorite action figure in the lighthouse, and he’d wanted to take it for show-and-tell.

“Go get it,” his mom had said. So he ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. Cutting through the pasture and wading through the tall grass, he emerged at his favorite hiding place.

Sure enough, his toy was right where he’d last played with it.

But he wasn’t alone. A little girl’s big blue eyes blinked at him from her low crouch in the far corner.

“What’re you doin’ here?”

“Hiding.” There was no hesitancy in her voice, only the truth spelled out as plainly as a five-year-old could.

“What from? Ain’t you goin’ to school?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“’Cause.”

He didn’t think her answer was good enough, so he walked around the light, which was so bright it made his eyes water. “’Cause why? Don’t you like school?”

She shrugged, her shoulders so skinny that the bones nearly poked through the threadbare shirt she wore. He knew that wasn’t right. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“Come on. Let’s go. I’ve got a show-and-tell.” He held up his toy.

She shook her head. Hard and certain. “Those girls at l-lunch. They said I w-was s-s-stupid.”

He frowned. “Well, those girls are stupid. ’Sides, you can sit with me at lunch today.” He held out his hand, and she stared at it for a long time before sliding her fingers into his. Her hand was cold—not even the heat of the lamp had warmed her.

Even in the winter months, when the snow was so high that his mom had warned him not to leave the yard, he had found warmth under that light. And always Natalie too.

They’d spent years meeting under this lamp, soothing broken hearts and broken dreams, failed auditions and failed relationships. But it wasn’t all sad. There were inside jokes and shared books, celebrations and victories.

And enough memories to fill a hundred notebooks with lyrics. He’d come close. Scratching out his anger and pain line after rhyming line, song after song. He’d spent months here.

But he’d never thought to look for a message from Natalie.

Under the summer sky, the heat of the light made his skin tingle. Or maybe that was the anticipation rushing through his veins. Either way, he ignored the way his hands shook as he reached for a small metal latch on the center console. The little door creaked open, and he squinted into the dim interior.

This had been their secret place, where they passed messages and left surprises. Once, when they were eight, she’d left her Christmas wish list. It was filled with things like a warm bed, new mittens, and a big dinner. He’d felt guilty about his list of video games, so he’d written out something else to leave for her. All these years later, he couldn’t remember what he’d told her. But he still felt the guilt of that moment. Of realizing that he had so much and she had practically nothing.

Maybe it was that moment when he decided he wasn’t going to let her face life alone.

Or maybe it hadn’t been a conscious decision at all. He’d merely known they were a team. Two peas. One pod.

A small triangle of paper was lighter than the rest of the darkness of the hiding place, and he stuck his hand in to retrieve it. The edges had yellowed over time, the blue lines of the standard-issue notebook paper faded. The handwriting on the page trembled like a stiff breeze had seeped between the glass panes of the lighthouse’s highest point as he held it up to the light. In her signature scrawl, Natalie had left him just what she’d said. A good-bye. And a map to find her.

When you’re ready to follow your dreams, I’ll be where the music is playing. Come find me.

Love, Natalie

Love. Had they really thrown that about so easily back then? He couldn’t remember her ever saying it directly to him. He didn’t recall if he’d ever said it to her.

It had just always been there. Understood.

But if she’d really loved him, how could she have left so easily? She’d strolled away without a backward glance. Except for this letter, this note.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. A gentle nudge that maybe she hadn’t been wholly heartless in her departure.

Still, had she really been so certain he’d follow his dreams that she’d headed straight for the one place he’d always talked about?

His gut gave a solid flip, and he sighed, leaning back against a metal support between two windows. She’d been so convinced he wouldn’t give up his music that she’d gone to Nashville and waited for him to catch up.

He hadn’t given it up. Exactly. But he’d settled for little shows within a stone’s throw of the dairy. Because it had been his responsibility. His legacy.

He’d never found his way to Nashville. But Nashville had come to the island. And it was knocking on his door.

“We could skip it, couldn’t we?” Natalie gave Russell her most hopeful smile and a little squeeze of his hand.

“Skip it?” He shook his head. “Why would we do that? Come on. We’re going to be late.” He didn’t release her hand, instead giving it a solid tug.

She offered only a grimace and a glance over her shoulder toward the candy-apple-red front door, which stood wide open to make way for a steady breeze off the bay. “We could go for a walk instead. It’s lovely outside.”

He frowned and followed her gaze through the screen, over the porch, and to the overcast sky beyond. “No it’s not. It’s about ready to rain, and the wind is starting to pick up.”

“True. But you haven’t really experienced the island until you’ve been for a long walk in the rain.” Even to her own ears, the words sounded hollow, ridiculous. But she tried to make up for that with a smooth grin and an enticing wink. “It’ll be fun.”

“This will be too.” He pulled her to him, tucking her into his side and wrapping an arm around her waist.

She felt like she fit there. Protected. Cherished. So why did he not understand?

Because you haven’t told him.

The truth hit home with the force of a baseball bat. And when it connected with the ball in her chest, she could almost hear the crack.

Honesty. What a fresh idea. She could be honest with him.

Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to make eye contact. “You know I’m a terrible cook.”

He laughed. Not quite at her. But at the idea. “Honey, I don’t care if you can’t boil water.”

“But I do.” She dropped her arm from around his back and tried to pull away, but he held fast. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

The humor in his deep brown eyes faded a fraction as his eyebrows met over the bridge of his nose. Parallel lines formed there, and the weight of his scrutiny was heavier than all the eyes at Grady’s had ever been. He wasn’t just curious. He wanted to know.

To know her. And her whys.

But she’d much rather keep them buried deep below the island’s red clay.

“I’ll be right there with you.” He pulled her even closer to him and kissed her nose. Then her cheek. And when she tried to open her mouth to make another argument, he kissed her lips. “This will be fun,” he vowed.

Because she was sure that if she pushed again, he’d only stare harder, dig deeper, she forced herself to smile and nod. “All right.”

As they entered the kitchen, she tried to muster a smile that matched Caden’s. But it wasn’t easy. The executive chef bustled about the kitchen island with a toothy grin and a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said to two other couples.

Natalie recognized the Butlers from breakfast that morning, and she’d seen the other pair but didn’t know their names. Both of the women stood about half a step in front of their husbands, whose arms were crossed. Furrowed brows seemed to have been sold in bulk, and Natalie felt a sudden camaraderie with the men.

When Caden looked up from placing a large bowl of potatoes in the center of the island, she smiled right at Natalie. “Great! We’re all here. And everyone has a partner, which you’ll need to finish up on time. Today we’re going to do a new take on a classic shepherd’s pie, which has been a favorite on the island for over a hundred years. One of you will peel potatoes for the garlic mashed potato topping, and the other will be working on the beef and veggies for the bottom.”

The announcement seemed to catch the attention of the men, and Russell gave a low mumble of appreciation. Meat and potatoes. That’s apparently all it took to get his attention.

Apparently she should pay attention.

Suddenly his leg vibrated, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. She gave it a quick glance as he read the text that had just come through, his jaw growing tighter with each pass of his gaze.

“Is everything okay?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Just a sec. There was a problem with one of the tracks Jodi laid down last week.”

As he whipped out a two-thumbed response, Caden asked, “So who wants to peel and who wants to chop?”

The other couples looked at each other, pointing at themselves and mouthing their preferences, faces already beginning to brighten as they caught Caden’s enthusiasm. Meanwhile Natalie stood around like a fool. While Russell was distracted with his work emergency, she stared at the floor, praying that no one would notice her. She reached for her pockets, which weren’t there, and then dropped her hands to her sides. Russell kept up a steady stream of typing, and she cringed when the banter around the room stopped.

She knew the sound of silence. And what it meant.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at her. At the person who least wanted to be here.

Forcing her backbone straight, she lifted her chin high and swallowed against the desert that had become her mouth. Sure enough, five pairs of eyes stared in her direction. And one stared at a phone.

She lifted one shoulder and said, “I guess I’ll peel.” Maybe she would do less damage with a peeler than a knife.

Caden’s eyes darted in Russell’s direction, her questions clear but unspoken. Too bad Natalie couldn’t say for sure if this was what they could expect from her fiancé this afternoon. It had been his idea, but when something came up at the studio, he would deal with it. He always did.

She shrugged again and said, “P-p—” Taking a gulp of air and forcing herself to slow down, she tried again. “Point me to my peeler.”

Everyone chuckled and moved to their stations. Except Russell.

He was about five seconds behind, and when he looked up from his work, there was an arch to his eyebrow that said not everything had been handled.

“Where do you want me?” Natalie asked.

Caden waved her hand toward the counter. “You’re over here with Ryan and Gina.”

Natalie took her place around the square island and picked up the kitchen tool that looked more like a weapon. It felt strange in her hand. Maybe it was the first time she’d ever wielded one of these. Certainly the first time in her memory.

She grabbed a rich, brown potato and weighed it in her hand before setting it on the counter. Holding its end, she swiped down the middle of it. Suddenly the entire potato slipped from her grip. It flew over the kitchen island and smacked into Shannon Butler’s chest before bouncing off the counter and landing with a thud by her sandal. Shannon’s eyes grew wide as she let out a startled laugh. It was followed by another and another until the whole room had joined in.

Everyone except Natalie, who could only look between her potato and the peeler that had most certainly conspired against her.

Perfect. Just as she’d feared, she’d become the laughingstock of Caden’s cooking class. And probably in record time. It had taken approximately eight seconds to go from doorway to class joke.

Each chuckle grated against her, knotting her nerves and making her hand shake. Dropping the peeler on the counter, she swallowed the memories that this moment conjured. Pointed fingers. Whispered words. Mocking giggles.

Her gaze jumped to Russell as she hoped for a rescue. But her hero was focused on his phone, his thumbs flying to send another text.

He probably didn’t realize that she was the butt of the rousing guffaws. He didn’t even realize they were laughing at all. Work didn’t just call. It demanded. “There’s no halfway in the music biz,” he’d told her early on.

It was true. It made good sense. There were more than enough aspiring musicians and wannabe producers roaming Music City’s narrow streets to fill every studio in town. A thousand times. Finding the next big thing, the next great voice, was only the first step. Launching that career wasn’t for those willing to give 90 percent. Or even 99.

Music was everything. It had to be. Even if it meant leaving his fiancée standing like a fool in a ridiculous cooking class. That was the deal she’d made.

But she suddenly wondered if she was getting the short end of that bargain.

“Okay. It’s no big deal. It happens to everyone.” Caden couldn’t quite keep the chuckle out of her voice as she stepped up to Natalie’s side. The softness in her voice matched the kindness in her eyes as she picked up another spud. “Hold it like this.” She wrapped her short fingers around the potato’s waist, her grip firm as she demonstrated. “Then bring your peeler across the long way.”

Natalie picked up another PEI potato and held it just like Caden suggested. But before she could take a swipe at it, Russell caught her eye. He waved his phone even as he drew it to his ear. “I’ve got to take this. It could be a little while.”

She opened her mouth to tell him this had been his idea and he couldn’t leave her on her own. But with a conciliatory smile to Caden, he slipped into the dining room, his footsteps quickly disappearing toward the front of the house. When the screen door slapped closed, she cringed. Every gaze that had followed his disappearance snapped back to her.

Wonderful.

Natalie attempted a smile, but her bottom lip quivered with something she couldn’t control.

As she looked into Caden’s eyes, she could hear the chef’s words from earlier in the class. Everyone has a partner, which you’ll need. Everyone has a partner . . .

“Umm . . .” Caden cleared her throat, her eyes roaming the room as though she was hunting for a previously invisible partner for Natalie.

The other two couples followed Caden’s lead. Natalie could do nothing but stare down and press her hand to the knot in her stomach.

Suddenly another door slammed, this one much closer than the front of the house. And the voice that followed it tore the knot inside her apart.

“Hey, Caden, I brought you that cheese you asked—oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were busy.”

Natalie looked up, but only so far as Caden’s face, which lit up like a cityscape at night. Her eyes brightened and the corners of her mouth flipped up.

No. This was not good. Not at all.

Natalie could read Caden’s plan in her eyes, and she wanted to scream that this was a terrible idea. The worst. Ever.

But it was too late.

“Justin, I’m so glad you’re here. Why don’t you join us?”